


An Unexpected Occurrence of Sorts

by agnbli



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Depression, Drinking, Multi, One-Sided Attraction, Other Additional Tags to Be Added (possibly), Past Relationship(s), Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-22
Updated: 2018-11-06
Packaged: 2018-12-16 22:29:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11838300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agnbli/pseuds/agnbli
Summary: After excepting a stupid little dare, Francis finds himself falling down the rabbit hole into the termulent, boring, and rather bleak life of Arthur, a depressed accountant with the temper of a two year old infant.Both find an odd sort of chaotic harmony within each others company, only to find themselves in the throws of something they never expected to see again. Love.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Revisions are still in progress, and chapter two is not yet complete. I posted it a year ago, and only recently remebered it, and decided to revise my writing and story points a little. It still has the same premise if you read this a while ago, but I am making things better (hopefully). But for now, ignore poor grammer to the best of your ability. I will try to go fix things.  
> If you feel up for it, please comment. It helps me to see who is reading, and whether it is worth it or not to continue on. The more passion demonstrated, the more likely I will write as I have motivation. Also, if you notice something that seems a little funky, please tell me. I want to improve my writing and make this story more enjoyable for others. Thanks!  
> -agnbli

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To those who have read the past versions of this, it is going through heavy revisions and updates right now. General editing when it comes to grammer and spelling will be done with time, but I am crunching down on the story right now to make it much better. We'll get there at some point.  
> -  
> Enjoy, comment with feedback if you have any. It will probably make the writing and story better.

It was a night for the books, but in a different way than any of them expected as they entered the little rundown basement bar. Years later, Francis would look back with an aray of very mixed feelings about that night, but yet he would never regret it, despite the questionable turn of events.

Francis Bonnefoy had slept with many people. Women, men, queers, heterosexuals, transvestites, drag queens, and even drag kings for that matter. Francis Bonnefoy prided himself on the fact that he could sleep with anyone, and 9 times out of 10 (at least to Francis' estimate/guess), his partner would brag about him the next day.

That was Francis "claim to fame", and it became somewhat of a joke within his friend group. It was a common game for them to go to the nearest bar and point to a stranger, seeing whether or not Francis had slept with them. If not, it was Francis mission of the night to get into their bed. It was a promiscuous little game, but it suited the group well. 

“How about that one,” cackled the man next to him, pointing to a rather attractive looking woman with fiery red hair and sharp blue eyes.

\-- Gilbert Beilschmidt, what is there to know about him? Thats simple, pale haired, redish eyes, pale skin, a mischivous smirk. Trademark personality trait: Class A German Pervert, and part time alcoholic, only when he's not working.

-

Francis raised a slim finger to his lips in concentration. His eyes scrunched for a moment as he raked his eyes across her features. “Ah yes, I remember her. Prudish at first, but you would not believe what she could do with those legs.”

Gilbert half raised an eyebrow as he whistled in admiration. “Fuck, I would kill for a night like that. Do ya think she would give me a ride?" He wiggled his eyebrows. 

Across the group came a scoff of indignece. “Oh please,” sneered a brown haired man with a rich Italian accent. His sloached features and sharp hazel eyes had the uncanny knack of pissing people off. Dark brown hair fell into his eyes fashionably, matching the natural little pout that sat apon his face. One finger circled around the ring of a half-empty bottle of beer. “You couldn’t play with her for one second before wetting yourself.”

"Fuck you, Lovino. I've scored a hundred more girls than you!" Taunted Gilbert, eyes flashing micheviously. "How about to try to get her, I bet you'd come the moment she looked in your direction."

\-- Here's the thing about Lovino, he is an asshole, and everybody know it. If he wasn't frowning or moping, he was laughing at other peoples expense. Very rarely did he geninely smile, unless it was a smirk at someone's stupidity, except his own of course. He was quite contrary to his younger brother, although very similar in appearace. One last thing, he hates Gilbert more that most due to several years of debacuery he would rather not think about. Oh, and his younger brother was dating his younger brother.

-

Lovino looked as though he was going to fry a brain cell, or maybe Gilbert's, but he let it go. "I don't need to woo that bitch over, I already get enough ass."

A small giggle came up beside him, only to be partically hushed by a slightly panicked glare and a whack to the arm. "Ow, Lovi! That hurt." cried the very tan, and very attractive man.

\-- Antonio was the ass Lovino was refuring to, and the man sitting beside him rubbing his arm. Lovi would never admit it, but that ass was pretty goddamn fine. And in all honesty, that was what Antonio was know for, his ass. Yeah sure, the rest of him was pretty nice, strong jaw, adorable little smile, bright laugh, sultry spanish accent, and a whole body strung like a guitar, which he played very well. No, the real remarkable part about Antonio was his buttock, a shining becon to perverts, assholes, and idiots alike. Despite what he may tell you, Lovino doesn't do it for the butt.

-

Gilbert looked away in digust, pretending to spew across the counter. "Lovino having sex, I feel assulted, abused. Somebody get me another beer. MATTHEW!" He called across the room to a thin young man with a mop of dirty blond hair and soft purple eyes hiding behind a pair of glasses. He gave a hint of a glare at the German, masking a sort of painful softness.

\-- Matthew Williams, 25, Canadian, tall. Matthew, or Mattie (but only by his good friends) was a kind sort of soul, with wide soulders and soft hair that passes his ears. He was an attractive young man with a bright future that was dimmed in the dingy lights of the bar. He was stuck in an endless cycle with a student debt, a fine arts degree from Brown, and very minimal work options. He had been working night shifts for many months now, paired with part time jobs like pet sitting, college tutoring, teaching music, and working at the local child day care. He would spend his days off at the library, vollunteering like nobodies business. Let's just say that he didn't have time for love, or self care for that matter.

-

A beer was handed off to the impacient german, quietly. "You know Gilbert, I can't give you anymore free beer, my boss is not pleased when I favor customers." He soft purple eyes almost seemed to plea a little bit, but Gilbert was looking the other direction at the red haired chick from before. "Add it to my tab, I'll pay you back eventually." He dismissed, rolling off the chair with a very obvious goal in mind.

Francis noticed this little exchange, and slipped his wallet out, handing Matthew a twenty. "Keep the change, Mattie." He reasured. "I think he owes a few more beers than that." He winked at Matthew playfully.

"Thanks, Fran." Matthew unintentionally grimaced, "But I don't need it, I'm not that poor." He handed him back the twenty, and walked off to help another costomer who was calling for him. Francis shook his head, slipping the twenty back into his pocket. Matthew was stubborn like that, so filled with morals and kindness. Francis' had know him for a long time, midway through grad school when Matthew came on as a freshman. He had grown a lot since then. He was smarter, taller, brighter, but he still maintained a stubborn resiliency and timidity that could sometimes drive Francis mad.

He turned back to Lovino and Antonio in hushed conversation about something, so Francis gave them their privacy. It looked like he would be chosing his adventure for the night, and so the hunt started with a flicking of his eyes across the room.

It was a small bar, more in the sense that it was extremely cramped. To the front, several large leather couches and chairs sat, people passing by and through them. A small window shed the streetlight onto the little area where currently a couple lay so close on top of each other, one would think they were simese twins. The little area remained surprisingly cleared. Across the floor people danced, grinding up to each other in the tight little area. Area was more like a wide hallway than a bar, with flashing green, yellow, orange, purple, and red lights lighting up the room. The walls were concreate, graffittied and rather disgusing in the daylight. Unreconizable stains littlered the wall, but people still pressed eachother into it in furverent passion. At the back of the room, a small stage stood, piled with speakers that were blasting music. On the occasional friday or weekend, a band might perform. Either that, or drunk Kareoke. Eitherway, the bar was packed on those nights.

Francis' eyes glanced over Gilbert who was trying his best to woo the little red head, but to no avail. Francis almost burst out laughing when he saw the little woman slap Gilbert clean across the face and stomp away to meet her friends. Francis respectfully turned away when he saw Gilbert walking back towards him. His eyes found a particularly interesting beer bottle on the barside wall as he attempted to shove down his laughter. 

Gilbert slipped onto the stool beside him, with a very irritated look on his face. "I lost interest." He muttered, avoiding eye contact. Francis looked over at Matthew who was smirking. He mouthed  _Karma_ to francis before going back to cocktail making. Francis tried his best not to notice the very red mark across the German's face.

"Gilbert, you really should pay Matthew back, you have a tendency to neglect paying him, and he is an employee." Francis decided thought that any topic would be better than the red hair girl and mark on his cheek, and so money was surprisingly a very fitting topic.

"I'll get to it, I will, I will. God knows I can."

\-- Just so you know, this is in fact true. Gilbert has more than enough money. He is in fact the inheriter of his late father's fortunes from a life time of running the local bank. What may surprise you it two things. One, Gilbert hates to spend it, and two, he prefures to make is own living as a carpender. Banking was never his strong suit, although he had the mind for it. Gilbert was a dertemined figure with his own ideas and ambitions, one of them being happiness in everyday life. This is surprisingly deep for a class A pervert, I know.

-

"But enough about that," he said dismissively. "My question is who are you going to pork tonight... Let's make it a challange." Gilbert rubbed his hands together, scanning the room like a pretator.

Francis was distracted when he heard a loud smack beside him, and an angry yell. "Fuck you, Toni. I'm going home." Francis watched as Lovino marched off to the door, passing by a startled group of three. 

"Lovi!" Antonio started, but Francis grabbed his arm before he could run after him. 

"Let him cool off first, Toni. He is looking a little worked up." Francis gave Antonio a pat on the shoulder. Antonio sighed, and turned towards the bar, tenderly holding his beer in his hands with a morose look in his eyes.

"That's it!" Gilbert exclaimed, shaking Francis and pointing towards the door. "That's the one, I bet you couldn't get into his pants."

Francis looked over to see a blond fellow with shaggy hair and a pair of very bushy eyebrows. He almost flinched as he looked at those eyebrows, dark brown, and almost proturding over his entire face (as the narrator, I can asure you this is an exaduration, but this man does in fact have terribley aweful eyebrows). Gilbert laughed as he saw the sour look on his face.

Antonio look over, and frowned. "Say, Gilbert. That guy looks familar." He was ignored.

"Gilbert, that man is attrocious, look at those eyebrows. At least pluck them or something. How could anyone love that face." Francis felt agitated, he did not expect Gilbert to think so little of him that he didn't have taste. "You see, I would not sleep with someone that does not care about self appearance. And add to that the expression of a banchee." Francis almost felt like throwning up. Gilbert only cackled.

Antonio gasped suddenly, drawing their attention away from the eyebrows. "Oh my god, that is Arthur Kirkland, from college!"

Gilbert's face paled rapidly. "Oh my God, you're right."

\-- Okay, let me give you a very breif history of the extent of this little trios friendship. Francis and Antonio were friends back in high school when they both went to a private english school in southern France. Francis went on to the Univericity of Virginia, while Antonio went to Berkely to study music and meet Gilbert, who was studying at Harvard. That fell short for both of them, so Gilbert and Antonio decided to go to RIC to study carpentry and teaching. A few years later, they met Francis who was looking for a room mate, and a short reunion came about. Anyway, at RIC, Antonio and Gilbert started a band with said Arthur, who was studying Mathmatics at Brown for under graduate. Let's just say that a lot of stuff happened in those days.

-

Antonio chuckled, "I'm glad he lost the green hair, it was hidious. He still had that scowl though." He hummed, a distant look fading into his eyes as he remebered the past. 

Gilbert laughed nervously. "Wow, I never thought I would see that asshole again. He had a real stick up his ass, literally."

Francis glanced at him with a smirk. "You sound like you know from experience." His thin eyebrow wiggled teasingly.

Gilbert looked at Antonio, and then at the ground. "Ah, well, yeah. Ummm.... we, well, we all knew each other quite well."

Francis looked at them both in shock, Gilbert now figiting with his thumbs and Antonio staring at the ceiling with a odd sort of facination. 

Antonio coughed, "Well if Gilbert isn't going to say it, I will. We were in a band, and yeah, he could fuck like nobodies business."

Gilbert spewed his beer across the counter. Francis was completely silent, and Antonio looked bashfully away. Francis looked back over at the blond who was now sitting on the leather couches with his two companions. He looked rigid, and angry, with a tweed jacket and a posture so strait, he looked more like a street lamp that a person. Nothing about him spoke "sex" or "promiscuity." Francis found himself slightly intrigued, but also repulsed in a odd sort of way. He really could not stop thinking about the eyebrows.

"Well, judging by your reactions, I think I'll pass this one." Francis started. "There seems to be a few can of worms in that case."

Gilbert jolted up, a evil little look in his eyes. "Oh no, you can't pass. This actually is the ultimate challange. Arthur has always been a hard ass, and he always will. Plus, by the looks of it, he is even more uptight now, that he was then. Anyway, the only reason we ended up, well, you know, was because he was a horny little asshole who could dance when he was drunk. Yeah, he is a crazy drunk."

They watched as Arthur got up, and started walking towards the bar. Gilbert and Antonio quickly looked in the other direction. Francis still watched him, trying to figure out how he would have looked with green hair.

Then came another surprise, "Arthur! I never thought I'd see you in a place like this." Francis turned around to see Matthew walked across the bar towards the other blond, a small smile on his lips. Francis watched as Arthur's whole body seemed to splinter and crack as he looked at Matthew, and a look of pure pain and agony crossed his face. It was gone in an instant when he took a better look at the Canadian. They fell into a very awkward conversation as eyebrows man found his eyes glued to the floor. 

Francis watched in complete facination as the two of them talked on the far corner of the bar, where Matthew handed him three beers. Arthur wasn't able to look Matthew in the eye, and Francis saw a strange gentleness in Matthews behavoirs towards him. It was almost like he was speaking to a frightened dog. But Arthur looked more back to normal, from the one time he had seen him. His posture was impeccable, and his tweed jacket a little ruffled. Francis took a moment to really look at him. Noting his thin chest, large ears, fair nose, nice lips, and starteling green eyes that reminded Francis of summer leaves. For a moment, he found the man startling attractive, but the eyebrows shone through again, and Francis almost threw up his beer.

 Arthur turned away, and Matthew walked towards them, noticing Francis looking at him. He stopped as the opposite end of the counter. "Poor guy," he sighed to Francis, look behind him at the other man. "He just broke up with my brother not two days ago. They had been dating for several years. Ever since grad school." Gilbert's ears perked up at this.

"Ha, yeah right, Arthur Kirkland having a steady. I highly doubt it." He chuckled to himself.

Matthew frowned. "What do you know, Gilbert. Arthur's actually a great guy. He may be a little bit of an ass, but he is plesent in his own ways. I think he is actually quite nice when he wants to be." He gave Gilbert a stern look, starteling him a little bit.

"Okay then, Matt. Whatever you say." He grumbled sarcastically, rolling his eyes at Francis. He had a look that read,  _What is his problem?_ Francis promptly ignored him.

Francis attention snuck back across the room to eyebrows man, who had found his way back to the little party. The man wasn't necessary bad looking, except for those nasty eyebrows. He also had to take into account that he would probably be up for a break-up-fuck with a stranger. It wasn't as though they would see each other again too, as only Matthew seemed to like him, and Matthew liked everybody. It seemed like the perfect little mission for Francis, challenging yet fun at the same time. But the real clincher was the curiosity. There was no way in Francis' mind that that uptight little man could actually be good at sex. The one thing he had going for him was the tight ass he seemed to have with that posture.

"I'm going to do it," he muttered to Gilbert, chuckling slight.

Two red eyes started back at him in shock. "Yeah fucking right, if you get into his pants, I'll give you 100 bucks, that is if you make it out alive."

Matthew looked at the two of them suspiciously. "What are you two doing? This better not be that stupid challenge game of yours." He muttered warningly, sending a little glance of worry in Arthur's direction. 

Francis smirked, "Come Matthew, it will be good for him to let loose since he just had a break up, revenge sex is always necessary for moving on, trust me!" He reached across the counter to pat him on the shoulder. 

Matthew bit his bottom lip worryingly. "Francis, Arthur's not like that, despite what people may tell you. He is actually more sensitive than people realize." He muttered softly.

Gilbert scoffed. "Ha, that's a fucking lie, Arthur didn't give a damn about anybodies feelings, trust me."

Matthew gave him a wilted look. "What ever you say." He turned around. "I'm looking away though, I don't want anybody to get hurt."

Francis laughed, and gracfully swang off the bar stool, grabbing his beer.

 

To say the least, pain did insue, along with a twisted little fate nobody really expected.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally! Finished this chapter! Took me long enough! I still have to edit my spelling and grammer, but the beast had been tamed.  
> I will try to get another chapter in after Christmas, but I have some crazy weeks coming up and will not be able to do anything on this, as much as I would like to.  
> Have a great holiday season, and be safe when traveling! Winter time can get crazy!

Time was endless in those moments. The brush of a hand, the soft movement of talking lips, the real meaning behind every word. The whole world seemed a mixture of muted colors and broken words.

Artie... a small sigh...  _Arthur..._ _I've been thinking_

Every moment seems to come back, the bright days in the grass, the bubbling laughter on the couch, the hurried touches in the night.

_It's been coming for a while now, I know I am not the only one feeling this way._

Five long years seemed to pass in an instant. All the late nights, the early mornings, the rainy days, the moonlit nights. Colors and emotions brushed past him, moving faster than the express train they used to ride during the holidays. 

_I just don’t love you anymore._

It all stopped, frozen in that moment of complete darkness as the fairy lights flickered around them. Only him, blue eyes, blond hair, handsome face. Perfect, in everyway. He sat there, and still as a statue, a frozen lake of time, just like the ones they used to skate on. It was just a moment, as the world seemed to fly around him again, faster and faster, numbers piling up before his eyes. Colors and sounds distorting his very being until he was naked and cold.

_In fact, I am in love with someone else._

He woke up with a start, hands gripping the stearing wheel in panic. He looked out the window to see a large blond man staring in at him with a worried look. His harsh blue eyes remained as stoic as ever, but a deep concern lined his eyes.

"Mr. Kirkland, it's time for work." he grunted in a thick accent.  

Arthur layed his head across the steering wheel. He had spent another night in his car, still unwilling to go home. He sighed, and rolled out of the car, attempting to smooth out his jacket, and pick his head up as to maybe fool his boss into believe that he was defenetly okay. 

"Good morning, Mr. Beilschmidt, I was just taking a little nap before work." He mustered out the lie, voice cracking. 

The man started at him with a pondering look, and Arthur saw a flash of pity cross his face for a moment. "Go get some breakfest, Feliciano left some bagels in the work room for the staff." He walked away, taking strong, powerful strides towards the stairs like a man on a mission. His slicked back hair didn't move an inch as he walked, and his broad chest seemed to speak,  _I am important_. Arthur watched him go with a heavy feeling on his face. 

He took a moment to collect himself, rubbing his eyes and smoothing his hair out a little bit. It was greesy. He looked at this watch, sighing when he noticed the time was 5:00, three hours before he had to be to work. He closed his eyes in frustration. 

He spend a good deal of time in the bathroom, stripping off his three day old shirt and scrubbing his chest with dispensible soap. He smelled foul, and he knew it, but he still couldn't bring himself home. It was too painful. Everything smelled of him, and looked of him, and seemed like him. He just couldn't face that kind of reality. 

He put his head under the sink, letting the cold water run down his hair and on his neck. His eyes cause a muttled reflection of himself in the white porcilin, unreconizable and alien. He let the water run, splashing into his face, and his eyes. He found himself unable to look away from the grotesque image it portured.  _Finally, my relfection seemed to match my mood_. He though ironically, before grabbing some soap and washing his hair with the fruit smelling foam.

It was painful to put his shirt back on, so he decided to wash it with a little bit of soap. His jacket seemed in tact, with no smells eminating off of it, so he let it be, drapping it across a bathroom stall. 

As he washed his shirt in the sink, he caught his reflection again, but it seemed more sureal that the last. His cheeks were pale, and his eyes bloodshot. He was thinner, a few bones poking out of his ribcage. His arms were weak, thin, and pale. Everything looked like it had been bleeched, there was no more color, except for the god awful eyebrows that stuck on his face like a scarlet letter. He looked away, unable to bear his appearance any longer. 

He sat on the floor when he finished cleaning his shirt, staring at the wall quietly. He shirt lay next to him, splayed out across the floor so to dry faster. He felt the slight tickle of droplets of water roll down his back from his hair, which no longer felt as greasy, but still just as gross. In the industrial lighting, everything was so plainly obvious and bare. Brighter than the moon, but twice as cold. The mintue his shirt was dry, he collected his things and left the bathroom, fearing some sort of dark secret would poor itself onto the walls. Or maybe even a painful truth. 

-

The office filled, one by one. Many familar faces filtered in, but Arthur ignored them all. His focus remained entirely in front of him in his cubical. He did not see the sympatheic stares, or hear the hush whispers of the office drama directed towards him. He let it all go, sifting through his concious like flour.

He was tapped on the shoulder by a gentle hand. At first he feared it was his own imagination playing tricks on him from lack of sleep and food, but a little cough came from behind him, timorus and oddly trepidatious. 

"Ah, Kirkland-san, Ah, I mean Mr. Kirkland-san... May I have a word." The voice was quiet, with a particularly strong accent Arthur had grown fond of. He turned around to find Kiku Honda, a young japanese man with large brown eyes and a small mouth. Kiku was one of the only people Arthur had bothered to remeber in the accounting office, as he was polite, hardworking, and understanding of boundaries. Although he was timid, never had Arthur seen him this reserved. 

"Mr. Honda, what can I do for you." He replied, giving him his best attempt at a smile. He knew it fell short the moment Kiku looked away with a pained look. 

"Well, um, Mr. Kirkland-san..." He paused. "Mr. Arthur-san, would you like to go get drinks with me a Mr. Karpusi-san after work today... I have something to discuss with you." He maintained a steady eye contact with his shoes, his small fingers figiting before him. 

Arthur was slightly startled. Never did he expect to be asked for drinks by anybody from work, let alone Kiku. The small man had a reputation of hardwork and nothing else. Something was defenetly amiss, and Arthur was afraid it was his raggled appearance and possibally smell.

"If it is work related, I have time to talk now. Does Karpusi need something from me, have I been getting complaint again?" Arthur suddenly had the feeling that he had said one too many words of anger to one of his clients. 

Kiku raised his hands rather quickly with slight alarm. "Oh no, Mr. Kirkland-san. This is another matter...on the lines of something else." He seemed to pale before Arthur's very eyes. "It is, well... a personal matter, of importance." He turned his head the other direction, even more nervous than before. 

Unease settled in Arthur's gut, and he had the very strong desire to avoid this meeting, although he didn't quite understand why. "Well, we probably shouldn't go out drinking tonight as we have work tomorrow morning, although I am honored by the gestured."

Kiku gave him a pained and confused work. "Mr. Kirkland-san, tomorrow is a Saturday, the office is closed."

Arthur suddenly felt that his mouth was filled with cotton balls, and a small fire had started on his ears. "Ah, well, yes, I guess I lost track of time." Now it was Arthur's turn to aquaint himself with the floor.

"Well," Kiku contiued, "I hope you will be able to go, Karpusi-san, I mean Mr. Karpusi-san and I will be at the pigme bar at seven." He gave a small bow, and walked off hurriedly. Arthur didn't watch him leave, as he was too busy trying to buy himself an excuse from the floor.

The day passed in a rapid standstill that sent Arthur's nerves on fire. He tried in vain to find any excuse not to go. _He needed to feed his pet,_ Stupid, he could do that easily.  _His sister was dying_. A lie that would raise questions in the future Arthur didn't have the heart to tell.  _Feel sick?_ No, not even that would do. He would be forced home, laying in the darkness with nothing but his thoughts and lingering smells. That was worse than socialization. 

So as the work day ended, Arthur strolled over to Kiku's cubicale to agree to come. What was the worst that could happen, Kiku ask for love advise, or maybe Kiku wanted to make sure he was okay. What ever happened, anything was better than going home. 

* * *

 Arthur found himself standing in front of a closed bar with a small picture of a pig on the glass door. 

_Pigme Bar -- Sorry Fellas, we're closed today, small family emergency. Don't worry, we'll be back on Monday._

Arthur breathed heavily through his nose, feeling the air rush to his head in agitation. He was stuck, constrained by plans he desperately wanted to avoid, but consumed by the fear to return back home, something he had been dreading these past few days. It was like a pulling chain, the desire to go home, but yet as petrifying as jumping off a cliff. He had been in that appartment for four years with the same man. He couldn't go back to the acute emptiness.

He glanced at his watch, 7:02. Kiku was late. Another twitch of vexation struck him. Kiku was never late, and it had to be all days. His temper started to rise at a violent rate he never expected. For the life of him, he could not explain his fervid agitation.

He sat down on the cold steps, watching the street life pass by him in a transitional mood. Hints of sunset peaked over the cramped building tops, but he was hidden by the rise of city lights that appeared down the street. Groups of people walked by, wearing their nices things and tightest garments, revealing skin that should have been freezing in the late autumn chill. He recieved a couple of pathetic glances from complete strangers as he sat on the steps, chin in his hands. He could only imagine the unsightly appearance he was in. His mother would have been ashamed. The time ticked away at a painfully slow pase. 

About a half an hour passed until two figures came walking down the street. One was tall, wearing a stylish leather jacket with tight jeans. He had a strong build and a head of fluffy brown hair. The other was Kiku, wearing dark grey dress pants, a white button down shirt, and a very thick knit scarf that hung at his waist. They appeared to be deep in conversation, Kiku with a particular agitation. When they looked up to see Arthur in his ragged old tweed jacket, Kiku looked visibly stricken, only to go back to his normal reserved face.

"It's closed," Arthur growled, failing to bite back his irritation. He was particuarlly bad at waiting, and he was starting to feel the cold sink into his bones. Kiku flinched a little, but was steadyed by a soft hand.

"Hello Mr. Arthur-san, I appoligize for our lateness, I had some trouble with my car." Kiku bowed politely, smiling ruefully.  He looked hesitant as he stood up, and glanced at his friend for assurance. "Would you still like to find another place? I'm sure there is another place open."

The man gave a small look at the bar before letting out a breathy puff of warm air. "I know a place by the train station." Arthur noticed a slight accent, European in nature. He scratched his head with an absent thoughfulness. "It should be a few block down." 

Kiku butted in quietly, "Would you like to join us Arthur, you seem tired, and we don't want to force you along." Arthur could swear he heard a hint of desperation, as if Kiku was hopeing the plans would be canceled. He felt a jolt of pain through his temple, it was a pity party then. His mouth felt dry.

"Well, it seems like you don't want me around, so I guess I'll go home." He stood, brushing off his pants. 

"No!" Kiku explained, putting his hand over his mouth at his out burst. "No, we enjoy your company Arthur, please join." He started figiting with his hands. "I also, well, I... I have something rather important to tell you." His brown eyes seemed to be melting into the ground as he spoke, and he seemed to grown smaller and smaller with each word. His companion gave him a concerned little glance. 

Arthur was interged. Kiku obviously seemed distressed by something, and Arthur had the chilling feeling it was news he was not going to be happy about. He have him a hard stare, trying to find something in his crunched little stance. 

"I will go, as I do enjoy a cuppa." He muttered, brushing his hand through the air dismissively. "Lead the way, sir," He said, looking at the brown hair man. 

He nodded, and lead the way at a slow pace, looking at every building and door as he went, his hands casually in his pockets, and his eyebrows furrowed in concentration. Kiku fell hehind him with Arthur, trying to be polite. Arthur glanced at him warily. And so they walked in a strangled silence except for the shuffling of feet and the laughs and shouts of the people walking down the street. Arthur tucked his hands into his pockets, rasing his shoulders to conserve heat.  As the night shifted over the city, it seemed to get colder and colder. 

They continued on for about a half a hour until Arthur felt his temper snap. 

"Hey, Mister, do you even know where we are going." He blurted, scowling deeply. "I'm starting to freeze my arse off back here."

The man looked back calmly back at him. "Ah, I think so, the train station is just past this corner."

Arthur glanced ahead, reconizing where they were. "No it's not, it a half hour away in the opposite directing, you idjot!" He started to yell, but the man didn't seem to notice or care, he just seemed surprised that he was going in the wrong directing. 

"Ah, Mr. Arthur-san, please calm down. I don't think Mr. Herkules-san noticed." He put his hand up defensively, trying to calm Arthur down. "Here, why don't you lead the way." 

Arthur stared at him for a moment, feeling his temper build up in his chest steadily. But it stopped suddenly as he saw the panic in the other's eyes. He nodded and started down the street.

-

Fourty-five minutes later, they were at the trainstation, Arthur near the point of freezing. He finally looked back to find Herkeles looking around curiously. "Ah! Yes, this is the train station." He murmered quietly, looking pleased. "It is right down this way."

Arthur looked down to see what appeared to be an appartment building basement. Looking closer, he saw the flashing bright lights coming from under the sturdy wooden door. They started down the steps, Arthur desperately seeking warmth. 

It was stuffy, with many sweaty bodies packed into the small little space with concreate walls and neon lights hanging from the bar. Arthur instantly felt a headache from at his temples from the shifting lights and constant movement from the small little space. He found himself led to a grouping of leather couches besides the door. He sank into one, trying to collect his barings. 

Kiku sat down next to him, wearily glancing at a couple making out on the closest coach. He looked extremely out of place, squirmish and nervous. Herkeles instantly blended into the scene, sneaking up to a rather attractive looking man on the other couch. 

Arthur was thrown back as he sat on the couch, remebering his rather excentric college days. It had been a different time in Arthur's life, filled with sex, drugs, and any alcohol he could get his hands on. He suddenly felt the familar itch for a cigarette. He pinched his wrist to distract himself from the familar smells and sounds that flooded his memoires and mind. He could almost feel the old clothes and crazy nights. 

"I need a drink, you want one." He yelled over the noise to Kiku, who was starting to look more and more like a dear in headlights. He nodded quickly. Arthur began to understand that he was not the only one who needed beer that night.

He stood, crossing across the dance floor to the neon bar across the way, lit up with vibrant blue neon that tinted the counter mysteriously. He pulled up to the corner, when his eyes caught sight of something else that was blue. A jolt of shock cracked through his body. He found himself sinking into his own personal black hole of pain

Electric was always the word that struck Arthur when ever he saw those eyes. He had thought that from the first moment he saw them, and it always came back. Vivid, sky, flashing, white hot, energetic. He didn't truely understand the danger of lightning until recently, and it hit him at full force once again. But, as lightning will do, it disappeared as he blinked, his eyes adjsting to the neon shadows that hung over Matthew's face, not the other one. Electric turned into violet.

"Arthur! I never thought I would see you here of all places, how are you?" He called in a calmer voice, timid but strong, nothing compaired to his counterpart. There seemed to be a glaze of guilt covering his eyes. Arthur felt his eye twitch.

"Ah, Matthew, I see. I forgot you worked at a bar, interesting it should be this one." He scratched the back of his neck, dilligently collecting every detail of his dingy black oxfords. He hadn't realized they had turned grey with time. 

Matthew seemed to shift uncomfortably, Arthur caught a glimpse of his hands fidgeting nervously. "What can I get you?"

"Three beers, I guess," he pulled out his wallet. "How much?

They made brief eye contact, this time Matthew looked away. "On the house tonight, I've made good tips tonight already, its no big deal."

Arthur blinked, and took the beers that were handed across the counter. "Thanks," He muttered slowly, hurrying back to the secluded little space across the room. He swore he could feel Matthew's eyes on the back of his neck. 

.

Kiku looked even more nervous by the time Arthur got back, his legs sat rigid in his seat, his dainty hands laying on his knees. Arthur swore it looked as though he was about to cry. 

He took the beer greatfully, bowing slight as he recieved it. Arthur glanced over at Herkules, who was calmly talking to a perfect stranger. He couldn't stop his curiousity.

"So, are you two an item?" He causally said, putting the beer across from Herkules, "you seem close."

Kiku gave him a puzzled look, leaning closer as to hear him. "Item, what does that mean? I have not hear that before."

Arthur scratched the back of his neck, internally grimmacing. He has just opened up a bad can of worms.

"It means, like a couple, like are you two together, um, romantically?" 

Kiku flinched and raised his hands up, "Oh no no, we are just friends, I am together with someone else." He paused after that, looking oddly pained.

Arthur felt a momentary panic, "Oh goodness, you are gay, right, I remember your date several years back at the Christmas party, nice guy, maybe I was mistaken." Arthur felt his ears redden rapidly, spreading down to his neck. 

Kiku again put his hands up, "No no, I am indeed what they call a homosexual. What I mean to say is that Herkeles and I are not together, romantically as you said." He gave a small smile, "Either way I am not offended, if that is what you were implying."

Arthur sighed in releief. "Thank the lord, I'm sorry about that, I have made that mistake before." He looked up, feeling the tensions dropping. "Do who's the lucky man?  Do I know him?"

Kiku tensed, turning the beer in his hands. "Ah, yes, that is what I want to talk about."

Arthur laughed slightly, "Do you want my advise or something? Pah, who would, we all know how I am with romance." He took a couple more swigs of beer, forgetting how nice the numbness of beer was like. He felt lighter, younger, relaxed. "I mean," he contiued on, pointing his beer at Kiku, "who doesn't know? I mean, its not a secret or anything." He downed the rest of his beer.

Kiku watched him with uncertainty, a small tremor starting his his hand. "Maybe this is a bad idea," He hummed, looking into his hands.

"Oh come off it, mate, I was only kidding. Tell me what's bothering you, I'll said what needs to be said or whatever." He gave what he hoped was a reasuring smile. Two dark eyes watched him for a moment, before taking a deep breath.

"I have a confession, Arthur-san."

Arthur stared at him for a moment, letting the words sink in. A very alarming feeling start to work its way up his spine, creeping like a centiped. It was the moment before the fall, he felt it, in those bone chilling seconds before the cliff reared in front of him.

"He really did love you, he told me that many times."

It struck him with full force, the brutal devistation behind those words. The air was drawn from his lungs forcefully as he hit the ground of reality.

"We never really thought it would go anywhere, we had met two years ago, remember the Christmas party?"

Of course Arthur did. They had fought that night, a brutal show down that ended the moment Arthur left the car and got drunk off his ass. Karoke had never been so fun.

"You must know Mr. Arthur-san, Alfred-san is a good man, he never meant to hurt you."

Now that he though about it, Alfred had seemed different the next day, almost like the day he had first met him. Distance became apparent the next morning, but Arthur mistaked as peace. What a fool.

"We, we had a connection, I can't explain it." He murmured softly, his eyes clouding over softly, a small smile touching his lips.

They didn't fight after that, not in the same way. They were petty fights, cold and unfeeling. Arthur still brushed it off like it was nothing, for sometime there were road bumps.

Kiku brused aside his bangs, looking at Arthur in a muzzled pain. "Alfred-san didn't want me to tell you, but my conscience would not allow me to go on without you knowning."

Reality hit Arthur strait in the jaw again, planting him on the spot where he sat. He could only watch.

"He told me to wait, but I didn't want to move on without you knowing as we work together, and it is not fair to any of us." He stopped, looking at Arthur intently. "He felt guilty, but he didn't want to suffer through the pain."

Arthur laughed breathily, reaching over for Herkules untouched beer. "The pain, huh." He started the chug the beer.

Kiku started to blink, looking worriedly at Arthur, but his attention was shifted away as a suave man slid up to Arthur. Under normal circumstances, the man would have been ignored by both of them as he was obviously way out of both of their leagues, but this was not the case. He simple slid into the seat beside Arthur gracefully, and cast a smile apon them that seemed to light the room with angelic allure. Kiku could swear he was saved by devine intervention in that moment.

"Bonjour, cher. Do you mind if I sit beside you?" He hummed into Arthur's ear, rich with a strong accent. The soft brush of a five o'clock shadow grazed Arthur's ear, and he lurch forward in surprise, choking on his half drunken beer. His heart bounded strait through his chest when he felt a hand slide up his shirt, gentaly grazing his hipbone, but it was thrown away faster than it arrive. 

"Who do you think you are, cunt!" He shouted, catching the attention of several patrons. "Don't fucking touch me!" He roared before punching him across the face. He then stormed out, grabbing Kiku's beer out of his hands before he staggered off.

The whole bar was watching the scene in shock, only to go cautious back to their drinks and conversation. The blond hair mans hands were pressed against his face painfully. Kiku ran after Arthur, bowing a brief apology.

"I deeply appologize sir, he was handed bad news today." He ran out the door after him.

-

Across the room, Matthew watched the scene unfold in worry. He pulled his phone out of his pocket, sending a quick text.

_To Brother: Be on stand out, Artie knows._

When he looked up, Francis was sitting at the bar, strictly avoiding eye contact with Gilbert. "This does not leave this bar." He grummbled, glancing at Gilbert.

"What do you mean," Gilbert started, a smirk comming through in his voice. "I thought that went pretty well!"

Matthew gave him a look, but looked back down when he recieved another message.

_Brother: Shit. Who told him?_

Matthew sighed, looking back up. "Gilbert, leave him alone, Arthur throws a hard punch." He reached for Francis, shifting his head to get a better look at the forming bruise. "I'll get you some ice." He walked off as Francis gave him a small smile.

"Ooo, hoo hoo, look at mother hen here! When's the wedding?" Gilbert chuckled.

Francis gave him a look, "Mattie's already got someone. Plus, we know about Francis and marrige."

Gilbert grimaced this time. "Sorry, Frannie. I..."

"Oh hush, appoligize to me for this bruise on my face, how am I going to cover this monstrocity up. I should have never have taken that dare." He sighed longily, fluttering his eyelids dramatically. "It is tragic how some beasts cannot be tamed."

Gilbert shoved him playfully. "Oh no, you just need to admit that rejection is a common thing in life that you have been lucky enough to avoid until now. It's quite natural."

 

Matthew returned with a bag of ice. "I gotta head off now, Fred needs me." He said, taking off his black apron. "Don't get into too much trouble, you two."

Francis smiled as he put the ice to his face. "Tell Fred and Carlos I said hi, I haven't seen them in a while."

Matthew nodded and walked off, shifting past the two other bartenders working. Francis watched him go, unable to let go of the feeling something had shifted that night.

To say the least, Francis wasn't wrong.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The little thing with Kiku's titles to people is very much intentional, don't worry, I'm not going too crazy.

**Author's Note:**

> This is being revised every so slowly, but I am hashing out a schedule and a plan...  
> Over the next two weekends, I am going to clear up loose ends, bad writing, and gross grammer to the best of my ability and patience. Then, my plan is to start writing another chapter through the next few weekends, maybe posting another one before Christmas. I want these chapters to be good, and so I usually spend several days revising and improveing as much as a possiblaly can. I am currently doing that process with the current chapters, and you may notice me go through again to correct things and improve my writting. This is a work in progress.  
> School is my main priority right now (and always), so posting will be inconsistant. I apologize if you are liking the story and I am being too slow for you. My creative process is slow, and I am kinda a perfectionist. 
> 
> I bet not many people bothered to read that, but if you did, thanks, and I'll get to the grind whenever I can.  
> -agnbli


End file.
